


I'm Gonna Haunt You

by Swing Set in December (swing_set13)



Series: Unchained Melody [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ghosts, M/M, Vampires, Werewolves, paranormal activity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-14
Updated: 2011-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-26 02:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swing_set13/pseuds/Swing%20Set%20in%20December
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a grave affair, what with all the haunting and lack of pottery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Gonna Haunt You

It's safe to say things change. Though somethings don't. Like the stairs.

"Come on," Stiles pleads. "I'll even help."

"You mean that thing you do where you stand behind me and criticize while ogling my ass?"

"I don't do that," Stiles scoffs but he flushes when Derek fixes him with a hard stare. "Well I haven't in awhile. And the word you're looking for is _appreciate_."

Derek smirks in victory.

\---

It bugs him because they're kind of dancing around each other. Well it bugs Lydia a lot more. Mainly since she wants details. Explicit details.

"You mean, nothing?" she asks, pouting quite prettily. Stiles flails a bit because he's not that comfortable that his life is now hot gossip. Even when he was alive, he only made the town post for consuming more pie than anyone else in the county. A feat that had his father grinning from ear to ear.

"Well, we talk more. Less monosyllabic."

He's not going to mention the evenings curled up between Derek's arms in front of the fireplace or how pleased Derek was when he discovered he could mark up Stiles' skin with his teeth, there's a couple of bruises leftover from an enthusiastic night on the couch that are barely hidden by Stiles' shirt. Stiles has never been more relieved when Derek barges into the parlor, fresh from a run.

"Derek," he greets, stumbling through the couch to stand up. Derek's hands steady him as his left arm drapes across Stiles' shoulders possessively. He's a wall of heat that Stiles leans into instinctively.

Derek sneers openly at Lydia, who simply takes another sip of blood from her teacup. "What's she doing here?"

"She was out for a stroll," Stiles says, because despite feeling like he's under a microscope when alone with Lydia, he can't let Derek scare her off completely. She's the only one who'll watch _The Notebook_ with him without mocking it or faking a stroke.

"Then she can stroll back," glares Derek.

Lydia snorts into her cup before setting it down. "Hmm, I think I'm expected for dinner at Danny's. Lovely as always, Stiles. Derek, do try to make an honest man out of our ghost."

She slinks out of the parlor.

"We're uninviting her," growls Derek.

"You always say that."

"Well, this time I mean it."

\---

Moving around town has never been an issue for Stiles. Though pretty pointless when no one can see you. He's given up on it awhile back.

He supposes he could have become a traveling ghost, haunting the interstate or something. But he doesn't have a sweater so he's pretty turned off from the idea.

It's on one of his walks about town that he met Scott. Well before he got bitten by Derek. Stiles hasn't heard the whole story of that yet but he's wearing Derek down. Slowly.

\---

Stiles considers Beacon Hills his. He was born here, grew up here and had an untimely death here. So he's pretty attached. So he has some proprietary rights to the hauntings that go about in the city limits. Like those pesky monster under the bed problems.

He remembers cowering at his parents' door for much the same reason when he was five so knowing that whatever goes bump in the night is real, has him angry. Kids don't deserve that.

So he's made it his mission to make Beacon Hills safe, he's got to have something to fill the days when the house is on the market. And the housing market has been pretty bleak recently.

So when he hears a scream in the night, he can't help to put one foot in front of the other. He's scaling a white trellis and at the edge of the window peering into the room before he knows it.

There doesn't seemed to be any grave danger. Not a ghoul or ghost in sight. Though there is a huddled mass underneath Star Wars sheets. Nightlight is on but no parent in sight. Stiles frowns. He remembers his father always ran into his room at the drop of a hat and after, his mother crawling into bed with him while his father made a grand show of checking under the bed and the closet.

He should at least check for the kid, if his parents aren't going to. Though Stiles thought he ran out most of the bogeymen decades ago. Apparently they aren't fond of chatty ghosts who aren't afraid to throw around furniture.

Stiles casts a weary look around and unlocks the window to get inside.

"Who's there?" wobbles a teary voice from beneath the covers.

Stiles freezes out of habit from his crouched position on the floor. Children more than adults can see the supernatural. Something about their imagination and belief in just about anything from tooth fairies to the Easter bunny.

"Umm," says Stiles awkwardly. "This is my first haunting." He crosses his fingers behind his back, a little white lie never killed anyone.

The mass of blankets shuffles and a mop of hair pops out followed by a teary eyed kid, barely six, by the looks of it. His breath sounds a bit wheezy, like one more scare will send him into a coughing fit.

"You don't look like a ghost," says the kid. Stiles looks down at his plaid shirt, worn jeans and scuffed boots - he doesn't look that bad.

"Wow, you're overly critical, hasn't anyone told you not to judge a book by its cover?" he says. "And are you holding a baseball bat? How is that supposed to help you with ghosts?"

The kid pouts and clutches his bat tighter. "Mom's at the hospital and Dad says I'm being a big baby."

Stiles' heart breaks a little. "Well, you should try salt - we ghosts live low sodium diets."

"Really?" The kid perks up at that.

"Oh yeah. Loathe the stuff," Stiles says and he figures it'll give the kid a good night's sleep.

"Should you be telling me?" The boy asks, frowning. "Aren't you going to get in trouble?"

Stiles waves him off. "Well, like I told you, this is my first haunting. You won't tell anybody?"

The kid nods his head vehemently.

"Great," Stiles grins, making his way to the closet to check if there's anything inside. Just clothes, a lacrosse stick and comic books. No monsters. The kid's as safe as houses.

"Aren't you going to start?" asks the kid, from his nest of blankets, the colour has returned to his cheeks and he's lost the death grip on the baseball bat.

"What?" Stiles was just about to leave.

"The haunting."

The boy looks at Stiles expectantly.

"Oh, yeah," mumbles Stiles. "So I'm just going to go ahead. With the haunting. Because I'm a ghost."

The kid nods his head, his gaze focused on Stiles.

"Okay."

Stiles looks around the room. There is nothing to work with at all.

"Wooooooooooooooooo," he warbles as he waves his arms about and runs in a serpentine fashion. He pulls at the curtains with another moan and rattles the picture frames a bit. He finishes by making the nightlight flicker with an elaborate hand wave and lets out another warbled moan. Stiles looks back at the kid.

"I'll give you a seven," says the kid.

"Seven? _Seven?_ That was some prime paranormal behaviour!" Stiles gapes in disbelief. "Kids these days, so desensitized."

"Fine," the kid huffs out, his face splitting into a grin. "Seven and a half."

"Thanks, does wonders for my confidence there, kid."

"My name's Scott and I'm not a kid," he says.

"Stiles," says Stiles, sticking out his hand. Scott grabs his hand but his fingers slip right through.

"Wicked!" Scott grins. "That's a nine."

And for the first time in a long while, Stiles has a friend.

\---

Danny comes from a long line of charlatans. Granted Danny's the first with an actual sixth sense. Stiles just wishes that Danny had been around when he died. While well-meaning, the kook who held a seance with his dad couldn't sense a ghost if they were standing right in front of them yelling into his ear.

Stiles was tempted to haunt him on principle.

But Stiles likes Danny regardless of his ancestors. He actually met him before Derek and not to long after Scott. Give or take a couple of years.

Stiles would say meeting Derek was both embarrassing and terrifying. What with walking in on him in the shower. Their relationship steadily improved since then. It took awhile for Derek to get over that. It's not like Stiles saw anything. Well, not that much.

\---

The Stilinski House has seen the ravages of time. Or the overwhelming lack of a gardener. Vines crawl along the outside, covering the brick and half of the veranda and hiding the stained glass windows. The inside is a bit better, faded paint and warped wallpaper. The property is quite vast, overshadowing the house in the grandeur of the gardens and intricate hedge maze with the surrounding forest. The house is three storeys tall and large enough to be called a mansion as it is the largest house in the rural town community inside the city limits. The grass rises high, running wild. The cobbled driveway weaves, in a smooth pattern, up until a large oak door that boasts a sturdy lock. The town's youth spread stories in tiny whispered voices about that house, strange legends and tales that change from voice to voice. Any adult would deny that it's haunted.

There's no story to the house. Aside from belonging to the town's first sheriff and his lovely wife, a fine lady, and their son, both of whom died too soon leaving a grieving man. Yet locals tell their children to keep away for safety reasons which makes it all the more inviting for the community's mischief makers.

While in between tenants, spending a night inside the house is a right of passage for the youth of Beacon Hills. Granted, most were too chicken shit to spend the night and the whole myth about the grounds being haunted only really started in the 1890s after the land was sold outside the Stilinski family.

Decades after he actually died.

Stiles wishes he could take credit. But that was more due to Lydia squatting in his house because her relatives up the mountain were still alive and she could only stand them in small doses without wanting to drain them dry. And that was horrible gauche. Even for a vampire.

But Danny was the first person to see Stiles. It was all a little embarrassing since Stiles was practicing a new round of dance moves he caught on the television. Learning the Dougie is not really dignified. For anyone involved.

\---

"I got another," he says, leaning back against the faded couch. "Why did the ghost cross the road?"

Danny just smiles, his dimples digging into his cheeks. "Why?"

"To get to the otherside," Stiles cackles in delight. "Get it? As in the _afterlife_."

Danny just gives him a quiet smile.

"Good one."

The moon filters through the cracked parlor window. "Can't believe you were going to spend the night alone up here," says Stiles. "This place is so boring."

Stiles revels in the fact that Danny can see him. Even Scott says he's getting harder to see. Almost fading sometimes. Soon Scott will be past the age of believing and Stiles will be one of those quirky stories he tells his kids. In the meantime, Stiles basks in the idea of talking to someone who didn't find lacrosse a boring waste of time.

"You know for a ghost you're pretty friendly," comments Danny, dryly.

Stiles pauses from his stretch. "Ghost? No ghost here, just two average guys, hanging out in an abandoned house. Totally normal."

Danny shoots him a dry look. Like the Sahara.

"Give me some credit."

Stiles deflates and sighs. He feels weary, bone tired, if he could feel his bones. But they're in the family plot across town in the cemetery.

"Couldn't fool you?" he asks, just for once he'd like to be a normal guy, with friends, and if he couldn't do that on Halloween, when could he. It's not like the house got much traffic otherwise. Scott was back at his mom's for the year and it's not like the house had a telephone line.

"You're not the first ghost I've met," says Danny with an eye-roll. "Though by far the most talkative."

"That's me, Stiles, the friendliest ghost."

Danny snorts and Stiles shoots him a hurt look. "What?"

"Like Casper," Danny explains.

"Casper who?" Stiles glares. As far as he knew, he was the only ghost in Beacon County, ever since ol' Doc Deacon moved on.

"Never mind," Danny waves him off.

"That's right," Stiles says, leaning on the fireplace's mantle. "This house was almost on _Ghost Hunters_. Except they decided to go to that hack house in San Jose. Complete bunk there. A tourist trap."

Danny just laughs.

\---

Stiles hates most ghost movies. Mainly because of how horrifyingly wrong they are.But there is one thing Stiles hates the most. Ghosting. He knows it's not rational but it's the principle of it all. It doesn't help that Derek's an asshole. Even to people he likes.

It starts with the whistling, Stiles doesn't notice it because he's sanding the walls in the study. But the cool autumn breeze carries the tune from the gardens. He almost breaks his mother's favourite lamp.

The problem is Derek knows exactly what he's doing.

"Stop it," Stiles grits out over breakfast as he watches Derek demolish a towering pile of pancakes.

"Stop what?" Derek asks, his mouth full of maplely delight. It's kind of horrible how attractive Stiles finds it. Especially when Derek licks off the syrup from between his thumb and index finger.

"You know what," Stiles says, trying his best to ignore Derek's tongue laving at his hand. He should sell tickets. It's all very riveting.

"Stiles?" Derek prompts, shaking Stiles from his stupor.

"What?" he asks, looking hunted, if he could feel his pulse it would be beating double time.

"You were saying something," Derek grins.

"Yeah, never mind," Stiles says. He can't formulate his reasoning for hating _Ghost_. And pottery.

Especially pottery.

\---

He forgets about it when they start working on fixing the stairs. Derek seems to take great pleasure in removing his shirt and flexing. It's almost like he wants Stiles to forget about renovating the house.

The humming starts soon after.

It's a low rumble that Stiles ignores until a tune can be made out. He nearly throws the hammer he's holding at Derek's head.

"If you hum one bar of that Righteous Brothers melody, I swear I will come at you with everything I've got," growls Stiles, his cheeks flush with anger, his hands pushing at Derek's warm shoulders.

"Is that a promise?" Derek says, in a low purr, his eyes flashing a dark crimson as he crowds closer to Stiles.

"Wait, what?" Stiles gapes looking up, his anger draining instantaneously into confusion.

Derek just smiles and Stiles feels the phantom beat of his heart. It's unearthly.

"Oh my love," Derek sings, his voice warm with intent, as he walks up the stairs towards the master bedroom. "My dar-ling."

Stiles beats him there.

Being a ghost has its perks.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been awhile. Yes? Anyway, life has been extremely craptastic on my end, so writing my typical fluff has been hard since all I want to do is listen to Adele, Arcade Fire and Stars and cry. It's not conducive to writing. Neither is watching American Horror Story which has an interesting view on ghosts which is why I watched it, for research and the fact that Zachary Quinto was in it. As a ghost, no less! But if you are all wondering about werewolf/ghost dynamics, well, watch Being Human or Casper which is where I get most of my lore, though I just make it up from Supernatural and my own twisted idea of ghosts. Inspiration comes from _I'll Believe in Anything_ by _Wolf Parade_ , _I Died So I Could Haunt You_ by _Stars_ and _I'm Gonna Haunt You_ by _Fabienne Delsol_. Unbeta'd so be kind. Comments are love! ♥ Sequel to [ I Died So I Could Haunt You](http://swing-set13.livejournal.com/136270.html). Did anyone else watch _Casper_ for Halloween? Because I did. _Can I keep you?_ *dies in an ocean of tears* And yes, I did have _Unchained Melody_ playing in the background when writing this.


End file.
